gazing the while into his eyes.

A cold chill seized me. If this little snub-nosed devil dared to go so
far as to kiss me, I did not know what would become of me in my terror.

Yet I could not avoid this dilemma in any way. The terrible little
witch, having done with the others, rushed upon me, embraced me, and
kissed me so passionately that I was quite ashamed; then twining her arm
in mine, dragged me to the little arm-chair from which she had just
risen, and compelled me to sit down, though we could scarcely find room
in it for us both. Then she told many things to me in that unknown
tongue, the only result of which was to persuade me that my poor good
mother would have a noisy baggage to take the place of her quiet,
obedient little son; I felt sure her days would be embittered by that
restless tongue. Her mouth did not stop for one moment, yet I must
confess that she had a voice like a bell.

That was again a family peculiarity. Mother Fromm was endowed with an
inexhaustible store of that treasure called eloquence: and a sharp,
strong voice, too, which forbade the interruption of any one else, with
a flow like that of the purling stream. The grandmamma had an equally
generous gift, only she had no longer any voice: only every second word
was audible, like one of those barrel-organs, in which an occasional
note, instead of sounding, merely blows.

Our business was to listen quietly.

For my part, that was all the easier, as I could not suspect what was
the subject of this flow of barbarian words; all I understood was that,
when the ladies spoke to me, they addressed me as "Istok,"[7] a jest
which I found quite out of place, not knowing that it was the German for
"Why don't you eat?" For you must know the coffee was brought
immediately, with very fine little cakes, prepared especially for us
under the personal supervision of Father Fromm.

[Footnote 7: "Issdoch," the German for "but eat." (Why don't you eat?)
While Istok is a nickname for Stephan in Magyar.]

Even that little snub-nosed demon said "Issdoch," seized a cake, dipped
it in my coffee, and forcibly crammed it into my mouth, when I did not
wish to understand her words.

But I was not at all hungry. All kinds of things were brought onto the
table, but I did not want anything. Father Fromm kept calling out
continually in student guise "Comedi! Comedi!" a remark which called
forth indignant remonstrances from mamma and grossmamma; how could he
call his